Harry Potter's Unusual Day
by KamquatBanana
Summary: Harry wakes up one morning to find all of Hogwarts gone mad with… lust? That’s right, it’s random hookup time! AU, oneshot, set around book six. Rated M, you have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Harry Potter's Unusual Day**

**Author: Kamquat Banana**

Summary: Harry wakes up one morning to find all of Hogwarts gone mad with… lust? That's right; it's random hook-up time! Brought to you by the sick mind of KamquatBanana and her friends. AU, one-shot, set around book six. RATED M.

A/N: Tee hee. This is just something I felt I needed to write… Plus various friends and relatives egged me on, adding a rule or helping to write scenes . It's basically unabashed smut, so if you don't like; don't read. It's M for a reason (although a rather tame M, if I do say so myself). Dedicated to the equally obsessed fangirl Sara and of course Meagan, the original corruptor (you know I love you); many thanks to Millie for her exceedingly entertaining suggestions. Please review if you feel the need to praise/condemn me; flames will be used to burn Hermione's cold corpse. Thanks! –KamqautBanana.

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is most definitely NOT MINE. If it was, everyone would most certainly have had an orgy in the broom closet by now.**

**RULES SET FORTH FOR THE WRITING OF THIS FANFICTION:**

**Must Be:**

**Teacher-on-teacher action**

**Slash**

**Implied sex change**

**Draco/Harry**

**Dumbly/Voldy**

**Someone saying, "Sexy Severus Snape"**

**Filch and his cat**

**Harry as close to canon as possible, at least until the end**

**Quinn Allman (Just because)**

Harry awoke early one morning as an odd sensation occurred surrounding his groin. Blearily opening his eyes, he felt the stiffening in his lower regions slowly decrease as something cold and wet lethargically made it's way across his naked torso.

"Ginny?" he murmured hopefully, his sleep-ridden brain struggling to comprehend the situation. But instead of his petite red-haired companion, a slimy, wart-covered head emerged from the red and gold quilt.

Trevor the toad stared up at Harry guiltily, instantly dissolving any last traces of arousal in the boy-who-lived. With a last mournful look directed at the Gryffindor seeker, the amphibian leapt off the bed and hopped gratefully towards Neville's sleeping form, awaiting the return of his beloved pet.

Harry could already tell it was going to be a rather unusual day.

-------------------

Grimacing from his unsettling wake-up call, Harry limped towards the Prefect's bathroom to wash away the residual slime still coating his nether regions, and hopefully be cleansed of the whole unpleasant ordeal. Although not a Prefect, he was of course friends with two, and had no trouble obtaining the password from them. It wasn't as though anyone ever caught him, anyway…

"Sniffle bottom!" the raven-haired teen whispered, wincing at Dumbledore's choice in phrase. Much as he loved the headmaster, surely someone else could choose the passwords? Someone without an infantile sense of humor?

Slowly, the thick door swung open, to reveal…

"Ron?"

"Harry!"

Sure enough, the red-haired keeper was almost fully submerged in the frothy bathwater, his face a deep maroon as he squeaked, "Uh… Mate? Could you maybe come back another time? Now's not the best…"

Harry hastily backed up. "Yeah, sure…" he muttered, nearly managing to fully shut the door before a high-pitched giggle echoed throughout the bathroom. A distinctly un-Ron-like giggle.

"Is that…?" Harry began incredulously. "_Moaning Myrtle?"_

Ron sank lower into the bathroom, his face a flaming red by now, as the ghost in question poked up from the bathwater, a coy grin on her face. Upon seeing who stood at the entrance, however, it quickly changed to a scowl.

"Oh," she exclaimed spitefully, "It's _you_ is it? So nice of you to visit after _ALL. THESE. MONTHS!"_

Harry made a move to close the door, but the enraged specter flew forward and gripped onto his arm, sending an icy chill through his body.

"Not so fast, _Harry. _I'd like to know exactly what you've been up to for the last while. Of course, I didn't expect you'd have time to visit _miserable_ moaning Myrtle… All alone in her bathroom with only the sinks for friends… Hah! Let's all laugh at her! She doesn't have a life; she's _dead. _Well this time I'm not waiting around for you or anyone else, for that matter. Ron and I know how to keep each other company, don't we, Ronny?"

Ron was trembling slightly now. "H-Harry," he began hoarsely, "It's not what it looks like…"

Myrtle screamed and threw herself straight at him, but of course passed straight through, only succeeding in giving the second-youngest Weasley a potent brain freeze. "Liar!" she yelled in a high-pitched whine that echoed throughout the tiled room. "Liar! You were just as lonely as I was Ronald, don't you dare try to deny it!"

Closing the door shut in one almighty slam, Harry ran as fast as he could down the hall, as far away as he could get from the lover's quarrel and the one question that seemed to occupy his mind:

_How the bloody hell does that work?_

-------------------

Exhausted, dirty, and more then a little disturbed, Harry dashed back to the Gryffindor common rooms in a daze. That was, of course, how he failed to notice the… er… otherwise engaged occupants in the room.

Crashing on the sofa, the-boy-who-lived sighed and tried to unwind by staring into the fire, letting the mellow flickering embers soothe and lull him into a sort of trance-like state, in which his mind wandered aimlessly…

He could see shapes in the flames, like when you stare up into the sky and marvel at cloud patterns. There were little stars, and moons, and a sort of dragon, complete with tiny horns… He could hear them crackling, talking to each other in some foreign language of the fire… And what was this other noise, a sort of bumping coming from behind the couch…

In a dream-like state, the raven-haired teen stood and peered around the sofa curiously. What he saw abruptly woke him from his daze.

"Freedom! Liberation! Equal rights!" Hermione panted, her bushy mane fanning around her head and sticking to her sweaty face. She was barely dressed in a loose-fitting robe, open at the front, where someone- or something- was crouched, panting and rocking in time with the bookish girl. Harry realized, with a start of surprise and disgust, that it was a house-elf; his head donned in a fluffy white knitted toque.

"Mmm! Generous mistress! Mistress freed Kreacher, she did! Kreacher was stuck in the past, with old Mrs. Black… Mistress showed Kreacher the way!" the ruddy little elf was grunting, thrusting harder in his fervent passion. Hermione responded by arching her back and moaning softly, caressing the creature's knobbed back lovingly.

Harry was unsure whether to scream, cry, or laugh. So he did all three, before becoming violently sick and running up to the boy's dormitories. The last thing he heard before he reached the top of the staircase was: "Harry! Wait! You can help too, Harry-"

Harry decided he'd much rather sleep with Draco then let it come to that.

-------------------

Still shuddering in revulsion, the seeker quickly gathered up some clean clothes and headed towards the dormitory washroom, planning to at least freshen up somewhat before he did anything else on this hellish day.

Stepping into the quiet and miraculously empty bathroom, Harry sighed deeply, reveling in the absence of some kinky love affair taking place right under his nose. Whistling a jaunty tune, he stripped out of his soiled pajamas and attempted to wipe away the trails of goop coated on his naked flesh. He had nearly gotten it all off when…

"Harry!" Seamus Finnegan's cheery voice rang out, as the previously closed shower door swung open, letting loose a cloud of steam. "Glad you could drop by! Care to join us?"

Peering out of the fog were the distinct faces of Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom, both grinning cheekily, arms wrapped around Seamus protectively.

"C'mon Harry!" Dean said coaxingly.

"It'll be fun!" Neville added; all traces of embarrassment or awkwardness vanished from his exuberant face. He'd obviously just had the shag of his life.

Yanking his clothes on hurriedly, much to the other's disappointment, Harry looked upwards, towards the heavens, directing his fury to them.

"COULD YOU JUST GIVE ME A BLOODY BREAK, ALREADY!"

-------------------

Harry fumed. He'd really started to have enough of this random-shagging sequence; all he wanted to do was have one quiet, relaxing morning, and what did he get?

_This._

Well, he'd show them. He wouldn't let them faze him, no matter how unusual or noxious the pairings may be. He'd just go down to breakfast, and have a quiet, relaxing, meal. Yes. That's exactly what he'd do.

Suddenly he paused, midway down the corridor. There was a noise coming from around the corner; a sort of moaning. Anticipating the worst, Harry poked his head around the bend…

"Sssexy Ssseverus Sssnape," Lucius Malfoy hissed seductively, his tall, lean body pressed tightly against the Potions Master's, forcing him against the dungeon wall. He leaned forward to bite the other man's neck, causing another low moan, almost a growl, to escape from Snape's throat. The torchlight revealed that his usually sinister black eyes were glittering with desire.

"Lucius," he groaned to his blonde-haired tormentor. "Why do you work me up like this? What about Narcissa, Draco?"

The other man merely smirked. "You know as well as I do that they don't care where my business or pleasure may take me. Narcissa has Bellatrix, after all…" And, so saying, he leaned in, his silky blonde hair cascading down like a fountain, mingling with the greasy black hair of the Potion's Masters as the two consummated their lust.

Harry stifled a scream and ran in the opposite direction. Not even years of intensive therapy and the most powerful Obliviate spell in the world would completely heal him after _that_.

-------------------

And so, it was in this state that the-boy-who-lived stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast; a state of horror, fear, repulsion, anger, confusion, incomprehension, doubt, anxiety, nausea, and, although he would never admit it… just the slightest bit turned on.

The sight that met his eyes as he swung open those great oak doors would remain forever in his mind, a testament to all those feelings and more.

There were people everywhere. But they were not mildly enjoying a nice sit-down breakfast, oh no, they were piled on top of each other, everyone and anyone scrambled together in the biggest Hogwarts orgy since… well, the founding of the school.

Everywhere Harry looked there were students, teachers, magical creatures, objects… All getting it on in their own unique way. There were Hagrid and Grawp in the corner, taking up a good portion of the dining hall… Next to them, McGonagall and Flitwick were whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears, transfiguring and charming objects to act as "props" as they went. Further on, Blaise the genderless was involved in a bizarre threesome with Crabbe and Goyle, who had both recently had sex change operations. Over from them sat Filch, in his birthday suit, slowly stroking Mrs. Norris, who sat on his lap purring. Quinn Allman wandered through it all, sexiness exuding from every pore.

His head swimming, his libido pumping, Harry looked down to find the Headmaster himself in a rather compromising position with none other then Lord Voldemort, whose usually sinister red eyes were agleam with something that Harry did not care to name.

"Ah, Harry, m'boy!" Dumbledore remarked gleefully, seemingly unabashed by his straddling the greatest threat to the wizarding world. "We were just wondering when you would arrive! Seems there's a fair crowd waiting to get their hands on _you!_" Eyes twinkling maddeningly, Dumbledore reached into a discarded robe pocket, withdrawing a crumpled-looking sweet. "Lemon drop?"

Harry looked around at the carnal knowledge taking place around him. He took in all the assorted couples, the various threesomes and countless orgies occurring between those who barely knew each other, and those who knew better; and he felt his defenses crumbling. Sometimes, it's just too much for one teenage boy to handle.

Mutely, he took the lemon drop. Wordlessly, he grabbed Draco, the closest unengaged body, and pulled him down to the ground, fiercely kissing his would-be enemy into submission, feeling something burn and explode in his chest as he gave into the hunger, the want, the need, and simply _did_.

And so ended Harry Potter's most unusual day.

**A/N: Squeeeeee! Okay, I'm aware this has virtually no plot. And it's short. And it's AU, if you didn't already get that. But I still say squeeeeee! –KamquatBanana.**


	2. The QuasiEpiloge Of Smuttage

**AN: What can I say? More smut was needed. Just a quickie written far too late -er, early- for my brain to be working properly. Yayes! -KB**

It wasn't his fault, of that he was sure.

After all, he'd just been _standing _there – albeit in the center of a mass orgy, wearing that nice cologne his mother had sent him for Christmas – when out of nowhere, the bloody savior of the wizarding world popped up and tackled him to the ground.

Well, obviously he'd tried to fight back…

Obviously.

However, despite all his workout regimes and quidditch practice, he was still both smaller and lighter then his opposition. The bloody oaf had pinned him without much difficulty, causing him to land in a most undignified sprawl; legs spread and arms held to the cold marble ground.

Hardly a suitable situation for a _Malfoy _to be in.

He'd glanced around for help at that point – where _were _Crabbe and Goyle when you needed them? Oh. Perhaps a little busy, then – but found everyone to be otherwise engaged, and as he really didn't feel like politely tapping either his revered headmaster or dreaded Dark Lord mid-copulation, he found he had little option but to lie back and think of England (certainly he wasn't thinking of those skimming fingertips on his chest or the heat of his hated enemy's body against his own, oh no).

So there he was, being _assaulted_ by the sodding Boy-Who-Lived.

And yeah, maybe he was humoring him a bit. Moaning, lifting Harry's shirt and touching Harry's skin, pulling him closer, limbs entangled and ties undone; so close, so much, so sinfully right…

But it wasn't like he was _enjoying _it or anything. He didn't enjoy kissing Harry until his lips were swollen, or biting Harry's lips and tasting coppery blood mingled with a hint of lemon, or kicking Harry's trousers into a disused heap of clothing on the floor. He certainly didn't enjoy Harry leaning over him, his eyes closed, glasses off, and his hair a mess of teenage lust; Harry whispering words that would make a Death Eater blush (and did) into his ear as he climaxed inside Draco.

Not at all.

And when the whole messy affair was over and Draco had regained both his clothes and dignity, he pretended not to notice the way Harry gave him a lingering, approving stare and then slipped him a bit of parchment, before striding off to wherever; most likely to find his loser mates and recount his tale of sexual prowess.

God. As if. Draco had had to do _all _of the work. That he totally didn't enjoy. Just as he didn't enjoy slipping that bit of parchment into his pocket before giving it a quick glance:

"_Prefect's Bathroom; 11:00PM. You, Me+ A Shitload Of Bubbles__xx Harry"_

Pfft. He wasn't even sure why he bothered going. Harry must have slipped him some drugs or entranced him with his megawatt smile or something.

Because when Harry smiled, his eyes lit up and his mouth crinkled in a funny new way that meant Draco had done something right for once in his life. It was startling and wonderful and totally addictive; and Draco soon found that he'd go to great lengths just to see it. Funny how he'd never noticed that smile 'til now.

Not that he cared or anything.


End file.
